Four Years of Darkness
by RatsoRios aka RabidLeroy
Summary: Not so long ago, Buzzy enthralled volunteers on what it's like to pilot the human brain. But four years after his last performance, what has become of this trapped Cranium Commando?


How long has it ben since I met my last volunteers?

How long has this place been dark for?

Will anyone please tell me how long?

How long...?

All the thoughts ran through Buzzy's head, as he remained seated on his seat, from whence he used to demonstrate his brain piloting skills to groups of volunteers. That was four years ago, should a volunteer risk his all to tell him how long he was trapped in his own prison, his former demonstration stage...

...his only career and dream of being a Cranium Commando.

The demonstration stage was now his prison, pitch black, save for the strobe lights that remained switched on to illuminate the sheer emptiness of the room. It was deathly silent, save for the faint noise of other people working, and ignoring Buzzy's presence altogether.

He turned to look over his shoulder, and with both eyes (despite his right eye weak and unable to open at will), he stared at the seating where the volunteers used to sit and watch his every move, squinting as he attempted to make out the shapes of the seats altogether.

He sighed in despair, bowing his head down a notch, as he proceeded to take a nap, just like he did for the last four years. He ran his right hand on his head, underneath the cap perched on his head. The hours he counted began to stress him more, to a point of beginning to lose his brown hair in small clumps at a time. He looked at the clump of hair in his hands, as he finally realised that he was suffering from the copndition he educated his volunteers to steer clear of... stress.

The stress bottled up inside him, from counting the minutes until his next call back to service, was too much to bear. He never felt so miserable since he lost part of his left eyebrow. The Buzzy of today bore one thing that was a far cry to the Buzzy of the past... he was tired, miserable and lonely from the minutes he stressed over counting. He gave another glance at the robotic figure - the one who once went by the name of the Hypothalamus - remaining motionless and still.

I guess they put him out of his misery. He was the only friend I could count on when there's nothing on schedule. I'm so alone... alone!

Slumping in his seat and planting his face into his hands, his pent up misery bottled up deep inside him gave way. His sobs and whimpers filled the dusty prison, where he spent his time being lonely, with nobody to encounter and rescue him from years of neglect. He felt powerless, weak, and ignored by others outside his prison.

After what seemed to be countless minutes of bursting into sorrow, Buzzy moved his head a touch upward, tilting his head to look at the very workspace he used to pilot - the mechanical cranial innards of the person he so used to pilot in his heydays. Buzzy looked back on his own memories - nostalgia of piloting people in his past life, even keeping in touch with the organs of the body, reporting their status and standing by for Buzy's instructions.

But it was no longer.

I guess it's what happens when someone... can it be?

Buzzy assumed the worst - that the body he once used to pilot wasn't responsive... all thoughts racing through Buzzy's head consisted of two words that shook him once more to emotional turmoit - it died.

Again, Buzzy planted his face into the controls and sobbed loudly, wailing and pleading for mercy, pleading for someone to rescue him from his prison.

"Somebody help!", he whimpered and wailed. "Somebody get me out of this place!", he grieved. "Somebody..."

He stopped his sobbing, wiping the tears off his eyes, but the expression of four years of misery still hung onto Buzzy's face. He had nothing left except memories, and worries for his too-near future. With a depressed sigh, he slumped over the controls, resting his head in his arms, and cried himself to sleep. All hope had left every nerve and fiber of his body, it seemed... 


End file.
